Divide, revised edition
by WhisperElmwood
Summary: Harry Potter hates summer. This summer, however, the Dursley's take him with them on a family vacation. In the strange new city, Harry finds more trouble than he expected, in the form of Death Eaters and Draco Malfoy. Eventual HP/DM. Slash.
1. Author's note and Prologue

Hey, Potter fans, long-time-no-see!

Welcome to my long-time and new readers! Before I get started with the actual story, just a quick note for you all.

This is a REVISED version of my first Potter Fic, Divide. Divide was written shortly after HP&tOotP, so it goes AU from the end of Harry's fifth year. This fic is set during the summer after his sixth year - so the whole sixth year is entirely different to HBP. Bits and pieces of the sixth year will be alluded to and there may well be flashbacks - I have the sixth year all marked out in my head and in note form. Horcruxes will not feature and Dumbledore is not dead.

The original version of Divide was written when I was nineteen years old – seven years ago! Because of that, it is chock full of plot holes, continuity errors and probably more than one outright crap paragraph. After reading back through it a few times, I've noticed that my characterisations bare little resemblance to the characterisations in the sequel, CONQUER. There are also things missing that needed to be mentioned, personality traits that needed to be explained and magic and reactions that were poorly thought out.

So, I've undertaken the task of re-writing the entire thing. THIS is the result so far.

Every time a chapter is completed and BETAd, I will update as usual.

Those who have read the original version of Divide will recognise what's going on, spot the similarities and quite probably spot were some major changes have been made.

Those who are new to this, having never heard of the original version, sit back and enjoy! It should be a quick updater, as essentially, the story is already written, it just needs tweaking here and there.

So, with that – onwards to the REVISED Prologue!

* * *

**Title:** Divide - Chapter 00

**Pairing:** Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy

**Rating:** 15 for language, violence and sexual situations

**Genre:** Pre-Slash, Drama, Adventure, Romance

**Summary:** Harry Potter hates summer. This summer, however, the Dursley's take him with them on a family vacation. In the strange new city, Harry finds more trouble than he expected, in the form of Death Eaters and Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**Divide.**

**Prologue**

Summer.

Summer was a time of rest and relaxation; smiles and laughter; ice-cream and sea-bathing. During summer, families got together and took vacations, visiting new places, seeing new things, enjoying their time together, away from work, away from school. Parents and offspring alike looked forward to the extended holiday.

Harry Potter, however, didn't know what rest and relaxation was, smiled and laughed rarely and had never been sea-bathing or eaten ice-cream as it melted in the noon-day sun. Harry Potter was nearly seventeen years old and unlike most his age, didn't particularly look forward to the summer.

Harry had never taken a vacation in his life and had no family he would like to spend one with, anyway. During the summer, Harry actually missed school. Summer meant he was away from his friends, away from the only good life he had ever enjoyed, away from the place he tried not to think of as 'home'.

Summer meant he lived with his Aunt's family again. For ten years, Harry had been an unwelcome guest in his Aunt's home – living in a cupboard and treated like a House Elf. Not to mention being treated in other, never spoken of, rarely thought about ways that he kept to himself. Since his eleventh summer, he was still an unwelcome guest, but at least he had an actual room. Even if the rest of it (and he refused to name it, even inside his own head) was still holding true.

The only thing that kept him sane over the two and a half months away from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were the letters he frequently received from his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Hermione's endless advice and comforting phrasing, and Ron's boisterous, conversational tone always worked to soothe and calm him, even when in the midst of emotional darkness.

Currently Harry was lying in the grass at the far end of the local Wreck. He was ignoring the troubling thoughts that always flitted at the back of his mind, listening to the breeze ruffling the trees and the long grass hiding him from view.

He rolled onto his back, lost in a light haze of occlumency induced comforting memories, gently brushing a few strands of grass from his face as he did so. He stared absently up at the sky. He spent as much time away from the house and lying here as he could and had begun cataloguing the different shades of blue the sky took on as summer peaked. Today it was a ridiculous shade of periwinkle blue – something he thought Dumbledore would appreciate.

If he paid attention and listened closely, he could just make out Dudley's obnoxious voice drifting down from the other end of the park – the end closest to 'home'. He was, once again, terrorising the younger and invariably smaller children trying to play in the Wreck. As far as Harry knew, either Dudley was studiously ignoring him, or he hadn't noticed Harry was even in the park. That suited Harry fine – most of the time, these days, Dudley steered clear of him anyway, clearly terrified of what Harry could do to him.

Harry slowly grew restless; his stomach had begun to complain again. He didn't have a large apatite at the best of times, but during summer, he wasn't fed nearly enough, despite hoarding what he could. After a short while, he sighed and climbed to his feet. He'd probably have to eat something from his stash, but he'd probably put it off until the Dursley's were all asleep, just in case they actually did allow him to eat dinner tonight; that way, he'd be one meal up tomorrow.

Carefully, before even turning, he checked to make sure his wand was in place, tucked into his sock, hidden under his trouser leg. It was an unconscious gesture, something he had learned over the past year to be very careful about. His wand was on him at all times now, even in sleep. He had begun keeping it under his pillow at night, after last Christmas. He had learned his lesson then.

After a moment, he turned and slowly trudged back to number four Privet Drive.

* * *

The walk took about ten minutes and he felt heavier and heavier with every step closer. By the time he quietly and carefully opened the front door, he was once again feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. Anyone looking at him wouldn't have been able to tell, though, as over the past year, he had also mastered the emotionless mask that Professor Snape was well known for.

He stepped inside and made his way silently up the stairs, meaning to make his way to his room without being noticed. Mere steps away from freedom and the relative security of the smallest bedroom, Vernon's voice resounded through the floor. He barely reacted, simply closing his eyes momentarily as the voice washed over him.

"BOY! GET DOWN HERE!"

With nary a sigh, but with resignation seeping through his limbs, he made his way back downstairs and slipped into the kitchen. Vernon was standing by the table, face red and purple with rage, ugly bulges at his temples, moustache fairly bristling. He was clutching what looked like a letter in one beefy hand.

As soon as Vernon spotted him, he waved the crumpled letter in Harry's face. "You're a bloody nuisance, Boy!"

Harry sat down at the table, not a single emotion crossed his features at either the rage or the hateful use of 'boy' instead of his name. Vernon appeared to take affront at this, he drew himself up, puffed his considerable chest out and continued.

"My name was drawn from the ballot this year, for the two week paid holiday at a five star hotel-"

Harry raised his eyebrows quizzically. Vernon caught the look and glared at him.

"We are going on holiday, Boy. But I have to bloody well take you with us!"

It dawned on Harry why Vernon was so angry. The Dursley's wanted to go on the holiday, so they had little choice – either fob him off on a neighbour, leave him to fend for himself for two weeks or take him with them. And because of the particular wards on the house and his and Petunia's blood – he would probably actually have to go with them.

Harry's heart skipped a beat at the thought.

* * *

A/N: Well, there you go. Updated, revised, made more sensible XD

As you may have noticed, I've taken artistic liscence with the wards that protect Harry via his mother's and Petunia's blood. Apparently, I forgot to take that into account when I first wrote this fic!

Review and I give you cookies! (Oh, and this chapter may be updated again, as my BETA is currently going over it for me.)


	2. Chapter 01

**Title:** Divide - Chapter 01

**Pairing:** Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy

**Rating:** 15 for language, violence and sexual situations

**Genre:** Pre-Slash, Drama, Adventure, Romance

**Summary:** Harry Potter hates summer. This summer, however, the Dursley's take him with them on a family vacation. In the strange new city, Harry finds more trouble than he expected, in the form of Death Eaters and Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**Divide.**

**Chapter 01**

Harry quietly entered his room and flopped boneless onto his bed, the thin mattress doing nothing to shield his back from the framework. He turned his head and stared over at Hedwig, his snowy-owl familiar. After her night out, delivering letters and hunting for the food she didn't get at number four, she was sleeping, feathers fluffed out and wings tightly tucked in.

He had spent the past hour or so sitting in the kitchen listening to Vernon as he ranted, rang various people attempting to call in favours and generally got more and more annoyed and purple in the face. Harry had begun to worry he would burst a vein; his temple was pulsing so strongly.

After a lot of deliberation – a whole ten minutes of which, Harry had begun to believe that he may finally get a chance to stay home alone for two weeks – Vernon had decided that Harry simply had to come with them. Anyone they could have fobbed Harry off on to was already on holiday and Petunia had long since explained the importance of Harry being near to her, living with her, over the summer. She repeated some of it during the deliberations, causing Harry to wonder exactly how much Petunia actually knew of the Wizarding World.

Just as it was decided, just as Vernon was declaring it and Petunia was sniffing in a disgusted manner, Dudley had walked in, asking what was going on.

The elder Dursley's told him about the holiday – to which he reacted with expected joy – and then tried to explain about Harry, without actually explicitly telling their son that Harry would have to come with them – but it didn't work and Dudley put two and two together, for once making four instead of five and again, reacted in the expected manner.

There had been a lot of shouting. Harry had retread to one corner of the kitchen, following Petunia's discreet directions to start dinner and listened to the argument. While he cooked, the argument moved to the dining room and he found himself harbouring a contradiction of emotions. On the one hand, he was highly amused at Dudley's reaction and wanted to watch it, but on the other, he wanted to be as far away from the arguing behemoths as was humanly possible. This last particularly because they were ostensibly arguing about him.

Eventually Dudley had been sent to his room, Vernon's final shout of rage that Harry HAD to go with them followed by a house–shudderingly loud slam of Dudley's bedroom door.

Harry had been ignored by both seething adults until he served dinner and was then sent up to his room. There was no sound from Dudley's room, so he assumed the boy would eat on his own, later. Once again, however, he hadn't been allowed to eat – though he had stolen tid-bits from the meal while preparing it; not nearly enough to assuage his hunger, however.

Harry rolled his legs off the bed, pulling himself into a sitting position. He stayed as he was for a moment, then stood and stretched the kinks from his back. A calculating look passed briefly over his features. He carefully and quietly – so as not to alert his Aunt and Uncle to his movements – made his way to his desk and sat down. He pulled out three pages of parchment, his ink and a quill.

He thought for a moment, absently sucking the end of the quill, and then penned three short notes. One each to Ron, Hermione and Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. When he was done, he sat back, carefully reading each of them over. They were short notes, simple and straight to the point, informing them all of what had happened and requesting something of each.

From Ron, he had requested Hedwig's protection for the two weeks that he was away – Vernon and Petunia had absolutely forbidden him to bring her, as well as forbidding him from leaving her with a neighbour – a pet owl was simply far too abnormal for anyone in Little Winging to find out about, let alone their neighbours. He knew Ron wouldn't mind, in fact, Hedwig would be a welcome addition to the Weasley household.

From Hermione he had requested she send him some leaflets about Bath – the city in which the holiday was to take place. He needed to know what to expect from the place, and maybe have some plans in place, thing's that could keep him occupied for the fortnight as he was sure the Dursley's would either lock him in the hotel room or leave him to his own devices most of the time. They certainly wouldn't take him with them on any sight-seeing trips. He knew Hermione would come up trumps – she always did – so he wasn't too worried.

From Dumbledore, he requested both Wizarding and Muggle money from his Gringotts Vault. He was certain the Dursley's would give him nothing, and the little money he had left over from his sixth year at Hogwarts would last no more than a couple days – if he spread it thin – and most of the money in his trunk was Wizarding, anyway. Hopefully the letter would get to Dumbledore in time to both warn him of the holiday so he could put protections in place, and send him the requested money.

As he wrote the letters, he resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to take anything magical with him, beyond his wand and maybe a transfigured book or two. Vernon and Petunia wouldn't allow it – they had enough problems with him having anything magical in the house, full stop – they wouldn't risk his freakishness being exposed while on holiday!

Thankfully he had already completed most of his homework – all of it that was essay based, at least. The Potion's practical and the Care Of Magical Creatures practical would have to wait until he made his annual visit to The Burrow.

After a moment of thought, he sealed the letters and stood. He crossed to Hedwig's cage and quietly opened the door – he gently woke her and she hooted softly, hopping onto his proffered arm.

"Sorry to wake you, girl, but I need you to take these letters for me. Are you up to it?"

Hedwig ruffled her feathers slightly, then held out her leg. Harry awkwardly attached the scrolls then carried her to his open window. He lifted her through it and paused, "Take Dumbledore's first and Ron's last, then stay with Ron, ok? I'm going to be away for a while."

The owl nipped affectionately at his knuckles, hooted again and spread her wings. He helped her into the air with a push of his wrist and soon she was disappearing over the horizon.

With a sigh, Harry put his elbows on the windowsill, his chin in his hands and simply looked, watching the world go by as afternoon slowly turned into evening.

* * *

_Harry,_

_Mate, will you be fine for the trip? I know, I know, I shouldn't worry so much, but you know me and my feelings. Be careful, alright? As Mad-Eye says, Constant Vigilance! Alright? Write me if you can and let me know what's going on while you're there – there should be some Wizard Post Offices around. _

_Thinking of, Hedwig is very welcome here – as you should know! We'll look after her proper, ok? Stop worrying._

_On a lighter note, Gred and Forge came by this week – the business is bloody booming, better than we thought it would (and that's saying something!) Mum's still a little miffed – as we all know – at their quitting school, but with the extra money, things are a little easier around here, so she mostly keeps it to herself._

_Charlie and Bill send their warmest (and G&F tried to send a gift, but I removed it – didn't want the Dursley's acting up) – they've both been round a bit more than usual this summer. So does Dad and Ginny, by the way – send their warmest, I mean. Mum actually wanted to know if she should send some food while you're away – but there's no real way we can get it to you, is there? So I told her no. _

_Try not to get into any mischief while you're in Bath, ok? I know, I'm worrying again – but I feel like I need to, so don't scowl at me. Try and have at least a little fun, even if all you do is sit in the hotel room for two weeks – ok? At least there'll be a new view to look at, eh? _

_Anyway – if I know you, you've got Dumbledore to send you some money, right? So I demand presents – but only if you actually get out! That being the case – it's tradition, you simply HAVE to get presents for your friends when you go on holiday! I'll expect them when you come to The Burrow! _

_See you soon,_  
_Ron._

_P.S. You asked Mi for info on Bath? Are you insane? I can guarantee you, she's writing out a ten page essay on the history and drawing up an itinerary right this minute! She'll probably set you homework! Hah! You asked for it, mate! _

Harry smirked to himself as he read the letter – Ron always managed to cheer him up, with his mix of brotherly affection, worry and playfulness. His accounts of his family and their day to day business was a blessing – he poured over the letters (normally much longer than this short note) with joy, every time they arrived, imagining the family as they bustled about.

Of course, he had known that Hedwig would indeed be a welcome addition to the household – Ron and Hermione had been courting for the past few months, and Errol – the elderly Weasley Owl – and Pigwidgeon – Ron's personal, hyperactive owl – would probably be exhausted with all the mail going back and forth all day, every day, as Ron and Hermione added to their load.

He chuckled lightly at the Post Script. As it turned out, Hermione had indeed written what amounted to an essay for him. He now knew more about Bath than he had intended – but it sounded like a lovely place, and if he was allowed out of the room, he would gladly explore the city. While the Dursley's were doing whatever they imagined a respectable family ought to be doing on holiday, he planned to enjoy his time alone.

Just for a moment an image of the family at the beach passed through his mind. Bath wasn't too far from some quite nice beaches – so it was within the realm of possibilities. He just hoped he never actually saw it – as the very idea of Vernon and Dudley in bathing suits was truly horrifying!

Shaking his head at the very idea of it, he collected the three letters together and packed them away in the floorboard stash under his bed. He took out the pouch Dumbledore had sent to him and weighed it in the palm of his hand for a moment. It contained about a hundred pounds Muggle money and the equivalent in Wizarding.

Hopefully that amount should keep him going for the two weeks – food, luckily, was going to be provided by the Hotel, so he shouldn't go too terribly hungry. Mostly, he intended the money as a means to enjoy himself.

The pouch itself was rather fine – almost ostentatious. It was a deep red with gold stitching and contained two separate pockets. The left held the Muggle money, the right held the Wizarding – while he was using one side, the other vanished and appeared to be only a fold in the lining. Presumably, this was so he could hide the galleons, sickles and knutts from any Muggle's nearby.

He quickly fished out the remaining Wizarding money he had left over from the past year and put it in the appropriate half of the pouch. After a pause, he packed it away in the small, tatty suitcase Petunia had deigned to lend him for the trip, carefully hiding it inside a pair of balled up socks.

Before the school owl had dropped off his three letters and the pouch, he'd managed to fit a few t-shirts and two pairs of jeans into it, as well as his necessary underwear and bathroom products. Now he took out a moth-eaten jumper, just in case and sat folding it. Hopefully, it would fit.

* * *

Dudley, the spoiled little arse, was moping.

It was entirely expected, but it didn't make the fact any easier to handle. When Dudley moped, he took it to new, Olympian levels. Harry was going to have to sit next to the whiney little shit, for at least two hours, in the cramped confines of the rear seats – made all the more cramped by Dudley himself. Of course.

"Move over 'Dudders', or do you want a new tail to go with the one you lost?" Harry said in a barely audible whisper so only Dudley would hear him as he slid into his seat. "You could have a matching set of scars." Dudley blanched and moved almost imperceptibly to his left, closer to the window, giving Harry a seething glare as he did so.

Harry may have matured quicker than most, but he allowed himself the odd petty gesture when it concerned his cousin now and then. It gave him a small amount of amusement where he normally found none.

He tried to settle in behind Vernon, squeezing his skinny frame into the available space behind the driver's seat. Dudley always sat on the left, behind his mother, as Vernon always drove and there was no room behind him. Dudley himself nearly took up two entire seats, and what was left was taken up with his extra suitcase. This all meant, of course, that Harry had the tiniest available space in which to attempt to get comfortable.

Giving up on the vain attempt, he pulled out one of his transfigured books – the cover looked like an incredibly boring Muggle book, but inside it was actually one of his Quidditch anthologies. He'd brought a couple other books with him – having had the foresight before the summer started, to transfigure a number of book-covers so Dudley wouldn't steal them and Vernon wouldn't hide them.

He didn't notice the time pass, but when he looked up from reading he noticed Petunia was already asleep, snoring in a very unladylike manner that she was sure to deny and Vernon was muttering under his breath about hooligan drivers and idiot motorcyclists. Dudley was ignoring him, engrossed in some hand-held game station or other.

'_This trip is going to be a barrel of laughs_' he mused to himself before returning to his book.

* * *

Bath turned out to be every bit as beautiful as Hermione had said in her letter.

Right from the outset, the city was distinctly different from anything else he'd ever seen (though his knowledge was obviously limited to Little Winging, Diagon Alley and Hogsmead.) The architecture was Georgian, right from the outermost detached houses, all the way into the city. They place seemed to be in a time-warp – a distinctly Austen one.

Harry stared in abject awe as they drove through the alternately very wide and strangely narrow streets – he spotted more than one fake window and they paused long enough in one area for him to notice the old painted signs still on some walls, like ancient murals.

When they turned onto Great Pultney Street (where their hotel was) his jaw nearly dropped. The street was indeed 'Great' – it was a clean, white, almost entirely symmetrical and gloriously preserved Georgian street. Harry could almost imagine the people of long ago, walking up and down the wide pavements, horse drawn carriages clattering down the cobbled street.

It was a sight to behold – especially when he noticed the large fountain at the far end, surrounded by road and housing, it appeared to have been turned into a large roundabout. It was currently in full swing, the water reaching at least six feet above the tip – light mists of droplets could be seen spreading in the breeze.

It was the middle of the morning, so there were few people about, though there were plenty of cars parked on either side of the very wide road.

Vernon pulled into an empty space before the Hotel entrance and snapped at everyone to get out. Harry followed his aunt and cousin as they retrieved their luggage and followed Vernon's path into the Reception.

As he grabbed his meagre belongings, Harry looked around at the street, admiring the beauty of the architecture around him, then reluctantly followed Petunia and Dudley into the foyer. Hopefully Vernon was still checking in, so he would be able to follow them at a discreet distance to their room.

It was as elegant as the doorway suggested it would be. There were leather seats, mahogany, oak, brass lights with marbled green glass shades, expensive looking drapes on all the front windows. Even the woman at the desk looked expensive, with her too thick make-up and tailored suit.

Harry marvelled at that for a moment, wondering at the strange thought of someone _looking_ expensive. He shrugged inwardly and moved a little closer to his aunt and uncle, though staying at a respectful distance.

After a few minutes, the woman gave Vernon a key-ring and three keys. He, Aunt Petunia and Dudley walked off in the right direction and Harry followed, slowly and at a slight distance.

Harry sighed gently, ignoring the look from the Receptionist as he passed her.

Apparently their rooms were on the third floor – and the building being so old, there were no lifts. Harry grinned to himself as Dudley complained all the way up the staircase, whining about carrying his own luggage.

When they reached the third floor, Vernon showed Petunia their room, 3A on the left of the hallway and then turned to the two teenagers. "You will be sharing a bathroom." He nodded to the left-most doorway on the right side of the hallway, "Dudley you have room 3D." He turned a glare on Harry, "You have room 3B."

Harry nodded and moved to the room. He opened the door and stepped inside. Before he could even register what the room looked like, the door closed firmly behind him and he heard a key turn in the lock.

* * *

A/N: This is much better written first chapter - I added the information that needed to added, moved some things around (those who have read the original version may notice the new hotel-room arrangements, for a start) but kept descriptions and thoughts from the original. It's pulling together nicely and hopefully y'all enjoy it ^^

Review for a cookie!


	3. Chapter 02

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with the Harry Potter franchise. J.K. Rowling has that great privilege. I am simply playing with her characters for a bit – I am not making money and do not wish to do so from this work. This is purely for shits and giggles and I will let the characters go when I'm done. Of course, anything not recognisable from the Potter-verse, was probably made up by myself, or the idea referenced from another Potter-verse fanficcer.

* * *

**Title:** Divide - Chapter 02

**Pairing:** Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy

**Rating:** 15 for language, violence and sexual situations

**Genre:** Pre-Slash, Drama, Adventure, Romance

**Summary:** Harry Potter hates summer. This summer, however, the Dursley's take him with them on a family vacation. In the strange new city, Harry finds more trouble than he expected, in the form of Death Eaters and Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**Divide.**

**Chapter 02**

Harry lay on the amazingly comfortable bed, staring at the drapes above him. Strangely, the room reminded him very strongly of Hogwarts, with the canopied, four-poster bed and ornate decorative furnishing. The ceiling was high, the carpet luxurious and the colour pallet in creams and pastel greens, yellows and occasionally blues. It was all rather gorgeous for a prison cell.

Harry understood that that was precisely what this room was now to be. A prison cell. However gorgeous and comfortable it was, Harry knew he was going to spend the next two weeks pretty much permanently locked in it – unless he managed to get the key off Vernon.

What made the situation worse, was the thought that Dudley could access the room through their shared bathroom. He had looked in there briefly, it was just as ornate and gorgeous as the main bedroom, but the door directly across from his own led directly into Dudley's room. Luckily – and this was the only bit of luck so far, there was a key in the lock of his own door. Which meant he could keep his cousin out of his room at night.

That still presented the problem of actually sharing the bathroom though. He knew he would have to time his own use of the room carefully – making sure Dudley had already left for the day, before unlocking the door and going in there.

Harry's stomach grumbled a little. He had missed lunch, due to being locked in the room while Petunia, Vernon and Dudley went to their meal. He guessed they had told anyone who asked that he was suffering travel-sickness. When the family had returned, Vernon had dropped off a pre-packaged sandwich and a bottle of juice for his lunch. There had been nothing more than necessity in the gesture.

The man had paused in the doorway, casting a glare in his direction before speaking.

"I have the key. At eight o'clock every morning, I will unlock the door and we shall go to breakfast, like a normal family. Then you will be locked in here for the day. We will return for dinner at eight o'clock, allowing you to join us again. You will not leave this room, you will be quiet, or so help me..."

Vernon had paused and Harry had watched as the man's fist tightened, the knuckles whitening visibly. He had got the point. With that, Vernon had left, locking the door behind him.

Harry had eaten half the sandwich and drunk half the juice, despite having missed both breakfast and lunch. He had then placed the half eaten meal in the small cupboard in his bedside table, saving them for later. He had supplemented the meagre meal with water from the bathroom taps.

He rolled over, contemplating the next two weeks. He was sure Dudley would also lock his own bathroom door during the day, assuming Harry would sneak in there if he didn't. He thought that maybe he would test the door occasionally, just to see if he could 'borrow' one of Dudley's game stations to pass the time.

The dinner in the Hotel Restaurant had been alright this evening. Vernon chose his meal for him, and picked the cheapest meal on the menu. Harry hadn't minded, the hotel was such that even the cheapest meal was bloody good. Having had nothing but half a sandwich all day, it wasn't enough to satisfy his hunger, but it had curbed it a little and tasted nice.

He did sit at the same table as his guardians, but he was not engaged in conversation and almost totally ignored. After a while, even the waitress had learned to speak only to Vernon about Harry's meal. There were no excuses given, so Harry assumed, again, that Vernon had already told the staff some sort of cover-story for his presence.

Harry found that he didn't mind too much. It left him alone to his thoughts, even if he did catch the occasional calculating look from various staff members.

He sighed and stared out the window, watching the stars make their appearance and wondered what his friends were up to.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was vaguely continental. Cereal, croissants, orange juice, coffee and tea. He took a bit of everything and discreetly tucked a wrapped croissant into his large sleeve, saving it for lunch.

He spent the day sitting on his bed alternately reading and practicing occlumency. At lunch time, he ate the sandwich from the day before and finished off the juice. He kept the croissant as a snack for later.

During the afternoon, he devised a simple, and probably silly plan, to get the key off Vernon. Despite his assurances to himself, he had grown quickly bored and was already developing cabin fever. He needed to get out. The breeze through the window wasn't nearly enough, and it brought tantalising scents and sounds with it that were tugging at his inherent curiosity.

When Vernon led his family down to the evening meal that night, Harry started putting the plan into action. First, he pointed out, in passing, the odd looks they were getting; briefly, and to Petunia. She began to do the rest of the work herself, talking incessantly about it to Vernon in an undertone.

Harry heard his name mentioned frequently over dinner and received more than a few glowers. His aunt and uncle spent almost as much time watching the staff, though. Just as Harry had hoped, they noticed the looks the staff were giving him.

He made sure he finished his meal well before the Dursley's did and put in part two of his little plan. He waited until a waitress was close by and then he gave them his best innocent and pleading look as he asked, "Could I have the key to go up to my room, please, Uncle?"

After forty or so minutes of Petunia nagging him about the 'looks' they were receiving, and the gossip they were no doubt the butt of, Vernon almost immediately caved. But he held his ground for a moment, with a wide, uncomfortable smile on his face.

"Whatever for, Boy?"

Harry grimaced ever so slightly, hamming it up a little for their impromptu audience, shifting his eyes to the staff and other patrons, "I, uh, need to use the bathroom and, well, you know, my medication's in my room..."

Vernon's face showed conflicting emotions for a moment. Harry recognised the dull rage that he was obviously fighting, but then insincere indulgence won out. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the key-ring.

As the man tried to hand him the key to his own room, obviously in an attempt to put a stop to whatever Harry was doing, Harry grimaced again and slightly louder than necessary said, "Uncle! I need my own key!"

Backed into a very tight corner, Vernon relented, ungraciously, and handed Harry the correct key. Harry immediately stood up, keeping the triumph from his face, not missing the deadly look Vernon was giving him.

"Thanks, Uncle Vernon!"

* * *

Harry was sure to lock both the main door to his room and the bathroom door when he entered. Though he quickly used the facilities before doing so. There was no telling precisely how Vernon would react after the little show at dinner, though Harry knew rage would be foremost amongst the emotions coursing his uncle's body.

He sat in the middle of his comfortable bed, listening intently to the movements in the hotel, waiting for the Dursley's to return. He didn't have to wait long; after about twenty minutes, he heard Dudley's whining and laboured breathing coming from the corridor. Two doors soon closed and Harry relaxed marginally.

He jumped when someone tried the handle of the bathroom door. Vernon. He relaxed once more when it didn't open and he could clearly make out a quiet but forceful curse. The next moment there was a polite knocking.

"Boy?"

Harry climbed to his feet and stood two feet from the door, "Yes?"

There was a grunt, "You're Aunt and I have decided to let you keep the key. But any ... freakishness, and we _will_ take it back."

Vernon's voice was strained – obviously, the man was as angry as he'd thought he would be. He could easily imagine the tightening knuckles and bristling moustache. In an automatic reaction, he occluded strongly, forcing his emotions back as he replied, "Yes, Uncle."

He listened to the heavy footsteps as they moved away, heard quiet murmuring that could only be Vernon talking with Dudley, then the footsteps continued through the the hall, the main bedroom and were gone.

Harry did not sleep well that night.

* * *

Breakfast this morning had been incredibly tense, with Harry being almost totally ignored. Obviously, Vernon had had a chance to cool off, however, and from the looks of it, he had also had some words from Petunia, so Harry didn't worry too much. He also didn't feel the need to hoard any food this morning, either, understanding, with a simple joy, that he could now buy lunch whenever he wanted to.

He waited for at least half an hour after the Dursley's left, before going out himself. So, with Hermione's 'itinerary' in hand, he set off to explore the city.

Bath turned out to be as gorgeous as he had imagined on that first drive into the city. For a time, he sat on the rim of the roundabout fountain, looking at the complicated architecture of Laura Place, watching the tourists and people who worked in the city passing him, taking note of the fact that the roundabout actually marked the end of the all-access road – only busses swept past him and over the short connecting route to the rest of the city.

He enjoyed the occasional spray of cool mist that landed on him as he thought, contemplating what to do next. Well. He had two weeks in which to enjoy himself – so long as he avoided the Dursley's – so he finally settled on simply exploring the centre of town and perhaps doing a bit of shopping.

With that decided, Harry slipped off the fountain's rim and jogged across the roundabout, dodging a car pulling out of one of the resident's parking spaces. He grinned apologetically at the surprised woman driving and set off down Argyle Street and onto Pulteney Bridge.

As he crossed the bridge, Harry found himself interested in the design – it was one of few bridges left in the country that was almost indistinguishable from an ordinary street whilst standing on it. Pulteney Bridge was crammed full of small shops. As he walked down the left-hand pavement, towards a set of traffic lights, Harry glanced in each window. One window in particular caught his attention – it was crammed full of swords and daggers, one or two of them reminding him forcefully of Godric Gryffindor's sword.

At the end of the bridge, the final window looked into a tiny cafe. He passed it and turned left, finally catching a glimpse of the River Avon. He walked a little way up the Grand Parade and then rested his elbows on the low wall between the path and a drop into the river. His eyes glinted with interest as he studied the river, watching the oddly stepped water-fall set a hundred or so feet down-river from Pulteney Bridge – which, from this side, was elegantly arched and very well kept.

Amusingly, he spotted a man dressed in fake Roman military gear, complete with plumed helmet and shiny breastplate, standing on the opposite bank, handing out leaflets to anyone who looked like they'd take one. Two or three children were running around the man as he worked, nearly causing him to drop his stack.

With a glance to the right he found the reason for his earlier than usual wake-up. A rugby pitch, complete with stands and what looked like the changing rooms, come team house and managers offices. He'd woken when the team was running an early practice, from the looks of it.

After silently contemplating the view, Harry stepped back, glancing up at the huge and decorative hotel on the opposite side of the road. He smiled and made his way down Grand Parade, following the wall as it curved round to the right. He skirted some tourists, predominantly American from their accents, dodged past the waiting crowds at the two bus shelters and came to a stop at the wall again. He found himself looking down into a small park, a well trimmed lawn curving down the bank to the river's edge.

It looked to be a rather lovely garden, apart from the topiary smack in the centre. Harry crinkled his nose in distaste – it was a rather gaudy representation of a child's teddy bear. However, closer to him and with her back to him, was a large angel on a tall plinth. He promised himself to investigate later, maybe see if the gazebo he could see, deeper into the small park, ever contained a band.

Harry turned away, and keeping one eye on traffic, he crossed the wide road onto the roundabout with a very tall obelisk in its centre. Looking up, Harry smiled as he recognised the landmark Hermione had studiously told him to keep in mind. Bath Abbey.

On the other side of the road, across the roundabout Harry was standing on, Bath Abbey stood proud and very tall indeed. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of the huge stained-glass window which must surely be behind the alter when inside.

After a moment contemplating the suitably gothic architecture, Harry skirted some heinously red and flower covered, open top tour-buses and passed into its shadow. Deciding to take the right-hand route, Harry passed a statue-fountain on a pedestal – a veiled woman, pouring water from an urn or pot of some sort, standing on a pedestal.

He passed a couple of old looking shops – at least one of which appeared to be an antiques shop, another an old fashioned toy-store – and then stepped into the large paved area in front of the Abbey. There were benches lined along the right hand side of an expansive area of flagstones. The whole place was crowded – and not just by tourists from the look of it.

Harry had put on a bit of height in the past year, so he moved a little closer and stood on tiptoes to see what was going on.

There was a fire-eating man on a unicycle entertaining the crowd. Harry nearly choked on a snort of laughter, watching the man lurch intentionally back and forth, wowing the crowd with his strange acrobatics.

Harry looked over the heads of the crowd and took in the Pump Rooms and Roman Baths behind the unicyclist. Impressive Georgian additions to the original roman structure. Hermione had suggested he try the waters, and as he had planned to do so, he took note of where it was situated – hard to miss, right next to the huge Abbey.

Something in the large crowd flickered and just for a moment, Harry was sure he felt magic radiating from some of the people there. But a second later, the feeling was gone. He shook his head and made his way across the square, glancing up at the front of the Abbey as he did so; it was impressive, the stained glass windows with carved angels climbing up and down the carved ladders either side of them, were a sight to behold.

He determined to visit the Abbey as well during his stay – despite his distinct lack of belief, the building was still beautiful and a testament to what muggles could achieve, even without magic.

Harry passed under what appeared to be a pillared entry-way, a typical Roman style carved 'roof' that gave some much needed shade. To his left there was a small set of stone-steps leading to a barred doorway. A group of teenage muggle girls were sitting there, giggling with one another and watching him as he passed by them.

He stepped out of the shade and onto Stall Street, immediately guessing the name had something to do with all the hand-carted stalls there were spread about the wide pedestrian street. The place was crowded, even more so than the square behind him.

With a grin to himself, Harry set off to explore.

* * *

A/N: Those who have read the original version will have noticed that I moved a couple of scenes around and changed not only where Harry is staying, but also the style of room he is staying in. If people want an idea of where the Dursley's and Harry are staying, here is a link to the Dukes Hotel, a real hotel, on Great Pulteney Street: **dukesbath(dot)co(dot)uk** I took some liberties with the interior layout, though. In reality, the hotel is 3 star, but I described it as 5 star in the fic! Also, if you want to see a map of the area I am describing, let me know, and I can provide it easily. For those who don't know, I grew up in the Bath area, which is why I know it so well ^^

Review for cookies!


	4. Chapter 03

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with the Harry Potter franchise. J.K. Rowling has that great privilege. I am simply playing with her characters for a bit – I am not making money and do not wish to do so from this work. This is purely for shits and giggles and I will let the characters go when I'm done. Of course, anything not recognisable from the Potter-verse, was probably made up by myself, or the idea referenced from another Potter-verse fanficcer.

* * *

**Title:** Divide - Chapter 03

**Pairing:** Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy

**Rating:** 15 for language, violence and sexual situations

**Genre:** Pre-Slash, Drama, Adventure, Romance

**Summary:** Harry Potter hates summer. This summer, however, the Dursley's take him with them on a family vacation. In the strange new city, Harry finds more trouble than he expected, in the form of Death Eaters and Draco Malfoy.

**A/N:** This chapter has the first POV change – from this chapter on, Harry's is not the only POV. Chapter currently un-BETA'd, will update to the BETA'd version once done.

* * *

**Divide.**

**Chapter 03**

Harry spent an inordinate amount of time wondering around the central streets of Bath. He hadn't spent much time in a predominantly muggle city, for obvious reasons, since he had started at Hogwarts. Bath was, while almost totally muggle, completely different from London and thus fascinating to him.

Harry explored the many and varied muggle stores, not yet buying himself anything – despite the allure of many of the products he came across. He gave a bit of change to the Blue Man standing in a small alcove in the front wall of the Roman Baths, pretending to be a statue (he wondered at the strangeness of muggles, compared to the eccentricities of magic-folk as he did.) He inspected the myriad free-standing stalls in the streets, smiling at the ridiculous plastic toys and hand-made jewellery, frowning at objects claimed by the stall-owners to be magical (though not a single object was and he wondered at the almost universal muggle ability to believe in magic where it wasn't and ignore it where it was.)

He stood for some time, watching a street artist paint an image of the Royal Crescent from memory, using a small pallet knife and oils, then debated with himself over buying one of the other images on the stall, before buying a small, postcard sized painting of the Abbey. As he left, he grinned at the young girl having her long hair braided with brightly coloured threads at the next stall.

He paused and bought a bubble-gun from a tack stall, thinking of both Ron and Arthur as he did, knowing they would both be fascinated despite themselves. He planned to give it to Mr. Weasley when he visited The Burrow in a couple of weeks.

To his constant wonder, the Georgian architecture did not let up at any point. The whole city seemed to be made of local stone, a pale sandy, creamy colour and all buildings were either neo-classical or close approximations. Though he did find one or two different buildings – a pub that looked almost medieval and a couple of far more modern buildings that turned out to be the local muggle College.

Almost everywhere, however, there was the stamp of the twenty-first century. Posters, signs, each store with its name emblazoned across its doorway and windows – but none of it really detracted from the look of the place. Harry found he liked it, it made him think of the way magical folk mixed ancient and modern in their everyday lives.

He also found that, despite Vernon and Petunia's behaviour, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. His only point of disquiet was the worry that he could bump into the Dursley's. He kept his senses open, just in case, knowing that if he spotted them, he could simply slip into the crowd and disappear.

While investigating one of the independent and speciality store packed alleys that run parallel to Stall Street, Harry discovered two points of interest. The first was a small sweets cafe named Ben's Cookies. He stood outside for a moment, savouring the scent of freshly baked cookies, then stepped inside and explored the choices. He couldn't help but think it was brilliant – there was so much choice, any wizard or witch would be surprised. There was coconut, mixed nuts, lemon, chocolate – white or milk, double chocolate and triple chocolate, chocolate and coconut, chocolate and mixed nuts, fresh fruit, dried fruit, fruit and nuts.. the list went on.

He bought three; triple chocolate, coconut and mixed nut, to munch on for the rest of the day. They were very fresh and he decided to eat the triple chocolate, humming in pleasure at the warmly melted confection as he nibbled. They were even better than they smelled.

The second thing he discovered, was while walking further up the same alley – right at the top, next to a set of stone steps that lead to Upper Borough Walls, was a real Wizarding shop.

Of course, from first glance, it didn't look exactly like a Wizarding shop; it was cleverly disguised as what most muggle's thought such a shop should look like – which meant there were a lot of useless trinkets spread about – but Harry could feel the real magic within its walls, radiating like a beacon. With a bit of concentration, Harry could actually work out exactly what he was feeling – anti-dark magic wards, anti-fire wards and a little something else that was new to him.

The name above the door, and hanging from the pub-like swinging-sign that moved gently in the breeze, was Arcadia.

Still nibbling the cookie, Harry stood and looked in the window, contemplating the artefacts on display.

The display was interesting – it was a liberal mix of both useless but pretty muggle objects, and real magical objects that Harry quickly identified by the slight glow each was emanating. He had the strong feeling that only a witch or wizard could actually see them, anyway. Watching a muggle looking at the display, he guessed a notice-me-not charm, directed at muggles, was set on the magical objects, as the woman's eyes slipped over them without pause.

Behind the display of artefacts, there was a small indoor waterfall, lightly splashing its way down to a pond. He could clearly see goldfish, and thought he saw a small water-nymph as well, the tiny, green and silver, mermaid like creature breaking the surface for only a moment, before slipping back underwater again.

Harry smiled again, wondering at the simplicity of the ruse. The owner of this store was hiding in plain sight – he was amazed the Ministry had allowed it – or if the Ministry even knew about it. Deciding he wasn't going to tell, mostly because he hated the Ministry, Harry tucked the remaining two cookies into one of his bags and stepped inside.

It turned out that the pond was used to display wares as well as just a focal point – small nooks and crannies were all used to display various products, from small statues of various world religions gods and deities, to jewellery and any amount of crystals. With a closer look, Harry also spotted the water-nymph, sitting with two of her sisters at the bottom of the pool – one a light green and gold, the other a pearly blue and brown.

Directly in front of the door Harry had entered through, was a staircase leading up to the next floor – the wall all the way up covered in mirrors, paintings and wooden carvings that looked vaguely African. A small sign could be seen telling anyone who read it that the store sold indigenous and aboriginal art, as well as clothing upstairs.

To the left of the staircase, using the space underneath it, was the counter for the clerks. It was glass and doubling up as display cases for the more expensive items – intricately designed jewellery, elaborately carved statues and huge crystals, both free formed and those still half encased in stone, creating miniature caves of amethyst or quartz. The counter was reverse 'L' shaped, leading backwards, deeper into the store and curving under the staircase. Along the surface were more trinkets on display trees or in baskets – cheaper necklaces, pendants, pendulums, earrings, bookmarks, small boxes of incense sticks and more crystals, this time small enough to hide in a fist.

None of the stuff on display within the shop was actually magical, apart from the three nymphs in the pond. Harry shook his head too himself and moved a little further in. The entire wall on the left was devoted to candles, incense and the holders in which to burn them. A small section near the far end was covered in DVDs and CDs and the far wall itself was a small alcove, with fresh herbs and ground minerals. From what Harry could see, none of it would work as anything more than a nicely (or occasionally, horrifically) scented pot purée.

There were some fresh herbs on display, and an untouched pestle and mortar. Harry felt certain Snape would be aghast at the waste, of both herbs and equipment. He couldn't stop a grin at the thought.

He couldn't see what was behind the till under the staircase, so he moved further in and glanced at the jovial looking shop-clerk. The man, who was rather eccentrically dressed in full Wizarding robes, a la Albus Dumbledore, was obviously not actually a muggle. The man looked up and Harry watched as his eyes took in the messy black hair, green eyes and then looked up at his forehead. Harry turned away before the man could say anything, nervously pushing his fringe down over the scar. Merlin, he was always recognised, and until he was seventeen, he couldn't apply any concealing charms, or transfigure his hair – or anything at all that would help him keep his anonymity.

He spent a few minutes inspecting the candles. They came in all colours, but pretty much only two shapes – small and squat, or tall and thin. Not at all comparable to what was needed in quite a few real rituals. When he turned back to the counter, the man smiled at him, "Mr. Potter?"

Well, there really was no getting away from it. Harry nodded and stepped closer to the till – at least the man was being discreet, even if the only other patrons appeared to be muggles. The man was grinning widely, "Never thought I'd have someone like Harry Potter in my humble store."

Harry occluded fiercely, fighting back the embarrassment and nodded with a small smile.

The man took that as a cue to introduce himself, "Henry Shire," they shook hands, Henry's grip was strong and his hands callused, "I own this little place with my lovely wife, Desdemona." Henry had a thick Wiltshire accent that gave Harry pause as he mentally translated, "What are you doing in our neck of the woods?"

Stuffing his free hand in his pocket, the other tightly clenching his shopping bags, Harry smiled again, "My family brought me on a vacation."

Henry laughed again, as if unable to keep the laugh inside, "And what do you think of our fair city?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, "It's nice so far, I've spent today exploring before doing anything really touristy."

Henry told him about a couple of museums he should look for, then directed him to the rear of the shop, pointing out a door in the end wall that lead to the strictly non-muggle part of the store. Harry thanked the man with a smile and moved in the general direction of the door, glancing at the wares on the counter top and finally finding out what was behind the staircase. It was a small library of muggle books on magic, religion and self-help.

Harry almost didn't recognise the figure standing there, flicking through what looked like a muggle version of a charms journal.

_Draco Malfoy._ The last person Harry had expected to see! From sleek white-blonde head to leather booted toe, it was unmistakably the Slytherin prince.

It had been just over five weeks since he had last seen the other teenager and as far as he could tell, he hadn't changed much – though it was a bit strange to see him in impeccable muggle clothing.

Not feeling like announcing his presence, Harry quickly and quietly made his way to the door. As he did, he looked Malfoy over, assessing the outfit; he was wearing a black leather jacket, faded black jeans, black leather boots and a fine looking black t-shirt. His white-blonde hair was vividly striking, creating a stark contrast against all the black, that Harry admitted to himself actually looked rather good.

He had to hand it to him, Malfoy knew how to dress to impress- though maybe it was a pureblood thing. Malfoy must have felt Harry's gaze on him, because just as Harry was within inches of the door, he turned. Hoping against hope that Malfoy hadn't actually seen him, Harry crossed the remaining space at a fast walk and closed the door quietly behind him.

* * *

Malfoy Mansion was actually situated in a very large plot of land in Wiltshire, one of many such plots, comfortably close enough to Bath that Draco had grown up with occasional visits to the place – despite its decidedly muggle nature. There was a Wizard's Ball held at the Pump Rooms annually in the summer, he had been to three in the past five years, being introduced to prospective pureblood brides at each one. Though that was before his father had been incarcerated. When he was much younger, he had enjoyed the Ball, parading around and being presented with the cream of the crop of young Pureblood girls. The last time, Draco had figured a few things out so his enjoyment had lessened considerably, becoming almost uncomfortable by the girls being presented to him, like so much chattel.

He did not attend the Ball this year, finding nothing worth his attention at the thing. However, after he had finished all his homework – in the first week – and had run out of things to do at home, he had realised he really didn't want to sit in the large Mansion with no one to talk to but the House Elves. In past years, he would have had fellow Slyth's around at any given opportunity, treating his Mansion home as if it were theirs as well.

But this year, things were different and he refused to think about the reasons behind the change. His body shuddered slightly, of its own volition, whenever he did. Clammy hands and red eyes wouldn't leave him alone.

So he had decided to take a small vacation and was staying in the Wizarding Hotel on Queens Square. The place was expensive, but well within his budget, and situated just close enough to the centre of town to be perfect for some retail therapy if he needed it and just far enough away, to be missed by drunken muggle revelry at the end of the University and College years. They tended to be either up on George Street, or down at the very end of Stall Street, at The Hobgoblin. Though there were a few nightclubs around, none of them were terribly close to Queens Square.

After a day of lounging around in his very comfortable room, relaxing and enjoying room service, Draco had decided that even Shire's presence was preferable to the ingrates currently working in the Hotel Bar and Restaurant where he had tried to hold a conversation or two with the staff, so he had gone for a walk and ended up in Arcadia.

Currently, he was flicking through what muggles believed to be a spell book, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous attempts at love spells, protection spells and even worse, prosperity spells. He snorted quietly, ignoring a soft sound behind him. In his current get-up, he tended to have muggle girls all over him, as well as the occasional and very welcome appreciative glance from muggle boys, so he continued reading.

However, a moment later he realised someone was actually staring at him. He could feel it in the pricking between his shoulder blades. He turned slightly and his pale eyes rested on the one person he had least expected to see.

_Harry Potter_ was trying to sneak past him into the Wizarding section!

He watched, slightly incredulously, as Potter reached the door and quietly closed it behind him, then snapped the book closed, placing it back on the shelf where he had taken it from. What to do? He paused for a moment, wondering if he could just leave it and go back to his Hotel – but he knew he couldn't. He was far too curious, and once peaked, his curiosity needed to be sated.

With a smirk, directed more at himself than anything else, Draco stepped through the door, closing it gently behind himself. If nothing else, Potter would provide some distraction for the monotony of holidaying in a city he had known since he was a child.

* * *

A/N: Both Ben's Cookies and Arcadia actually exist, exactly as I described them and exactly where I placed them. Arcadia used to be one of my favourite shops in Bath, but I've grown out of Woo in the past few years. Ben's Cookies, however, is still one of my favourite little cafe's – their cookies really are to die for!


	5. Chapter 04

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with the Harry Potter franchise. J.K. Rowling has that great privilege. I am simply playing with her characters for a bit – I am not making money and do not wish to do so from this work. This is purely for shits and giggles and I will let the characters go when I'm done. Of course, anything not recognisable from the Potter-verse, was probably made up by myself, or the idea referenced from another Potter-verse fanficcer.

* * *

**Title:** Divide - Chapter 04

**Pairing:** Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy

**Rating:** 15 for language, violence and sexual situations

**Genre:** Pre-Slash, Drama, Adventure, Romance

**Summary:** Harry Potter hates summer. This summer, however, the Dursley's take him with them on a family vacation. In the strange new city, Harry finds more trouble than he expected, in the form of Death Eaters and Draco Malfoy.

**A/N:** Chapter currently un-BETA'd, will update to the BETA'd version once done. This chapter is on Monday, 25th July. I didn't look up years and stuff, so just bare with me on that.

**Eden's Echo: **Thanks for the comments, it's very nice to have an old reader back and lending support ^^ Conquer is next on my list, once I finish Divide's revision. There will be some minor revision to the current chapters, and then I'll be continuing it – I've already made a start on the next chapter, actually XD Also, Conquer is only book 2 of the series, I intend to write a third book, Acquiesce.

* * *

**Divide.**

**Chapter 04**

Arcadia's Wizarding section was basically the Wizarding equivalent of a muggle supermarket, with pretty much everything a Witch or Wizard could possibly need all in one place. As the only magical store in the entirety of Bath, it made a good deal of money, especially in the summer months, when tourist season was in full swing. It usual for one such store to be situated in every major town in the UK, all of them privately owned and run as no-one had yet thought of consolidating the stores into one company.

In true Wizarding fashion, the layout was eccentric, with no discernable order to the products and shelving in odd shapes as well as at odd angles, the shelving layout more reminiscent of a maze, than a supermarket. However, volatile substances were kept well apart from each other and edibles were kept in a separate area to minimise contamination from other products. Everything from Familiar feed for various species, to broom servicing kits, to potions ingredients, to premade potions ranging from Dreamless Sleep and Calming Draughts, to Skele-Gro and even several different Aphrodisiac Doses were arranged around the large hall, ready for purchase.

Desdemona Shire was running this section of Arcadia, sitting in the far corner next to the till, reading what looked like a copy of Witch's Weekly, ignoring the few customers perusing the shelving, her wand tucked into her hair, apparently keeping her bun in place. Like Henry, she was a jovial looking woman, with obvious smile lines at eyes and mouth.

Draco surveyed the room with a determined eye, searching for the unruly black mop that signified a Potter. After a quick scan, he spotted the other teen far to the right, looking at potions ingredients, occasionally running a finger over the labels, as if phonetically working his way through difficult names.

Draco was well versed in the layout of the store and the various products on offer therein, but he had to agree with the sentiments Potter was exuding, the various ingredients on that particular shelf were both rare and foreign, so even he had problems pronouncing the strange tongue-twisting names at times.

With a small smirk, Draco headed over to the Gryffindor.

* * *

Harry closed the door behind himself as he slipped into the room, looking around the place in interest. He hadn't thought that Wizarding supermarkets existed, but obviously they did – though in rather haphazard fashion. Not exactly in the mood to talk to Malfoy, despite the truce that had been in place for the past year, Harry headed to the right, intent on losing himself in the potions ingredients he could clearly see.

As Harry reached the shelving, he realised there were a lot of foreign substances on the shelving, things he had only seen mentioned in obscure potion's journals or seen in Snape's private stores. With eyebrows raised, he perused the jars and vials, spotting more than one tongue-twister of a name, cataloguing some of the rarer ingredients that he had never been allowed to handle, even when he had seen Snape using them.

The first name to catch his attention was '_Katsodaimonas_' – he turned the two jars, containing obviously different parts of the creature, until he could read the labels: _Katsodaimonas, the horns used for ailments regarding pregnancy, and the genitals used in salves and potions in aide of healing rape victims._ With an incredulous look at the jars, he turned another two; _Fankenmannikins, a relative of the House Elf, often found in rural dairies, the willingly given blood of which can be used in potions to aide wards that protect farms from the more adverse elements. Tylwyth Teg Gold, used in prosperity potions and warding potions for new born babies._

Harry stepped back, running his fingers over the more elaborate vials, turning one here, another there, to read the labels: _Sidhe Tears willingly given aide in returning a trapped Animagus to their true form. Banniki Bathwater, an ingredient used to create Strangle Mist. Korred Muscle, used in salves and potions to aide weight gain, muscle restoration and restorative draughts._ _Lauru blood and eyes, used in many love potions. _

This stuff was fascinating. He had seen it all in Snape's stores, of course, but had never had a chance to ask about them or have the potential uses explained. Hermione would have been lost here, excitedly examining each and every jar, noting down all the names and information, intent on researching it all later. He smiled at the thought. She had never been allowed in Snape's personal stores and he hadn't been allowed to mention any of the ingredients found in there, so now he had a legitimate excuse to mention various ingredients to her.

There was an entire shelf for Rusalky ingredients alone. The first jar contained Rusalky Silk, the label informing him that the silk was used in potions designed to sap strength and cause disorientation. Another vial contained Rusalka Blood, apparently willingly given and used in potions to combat depression and suicidal tendencies. The rest of the shelf was filled with samples of crops that had been grown in spots Rusalky had danced, these used in potions for cheeriness and energy. Fascinating, and Hermione would have been in ecstasies over it all. He would have to come back with a pen and parchment, to note some of them down for her to research, she'd love it.

With a small smile on his lips at the thought, Harry turned to the more mundane ingredients; Goblin Snot, Mocksey Toes, Essence of Black Rain, Dementor Skin and so on. He couldn't imagine what Dementor Skin could be used in that wasn't Dark Arts, but then, he probably didn't want to know.

He turned to continue down the shelving, but stopped with a start, Malfoy was standing there nonchalantly watching him, a truly disarming smile on his lips. Harry blinked, "Uh, hey Malfoy." Obviously, the teen had seen him and followed him in. Damn.

Malfoy nodded in response, "Potter." He changed his weight from one hip to the other and looked Harry up and down, "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Vacation?"

Unsure of Malfoy's motives and not really in the mood for mind-games, Harry nodded shortly and stepped around the other teen, continuing down the shelving. He left the Potion section behind, entering the small Library. The smell of old books reminded him distinctly of Hermione, and he relaxed somewhat.

* * *

Draco paused for a moment, watching Potter as he walked down the Potion's aisle, tracing his fingers over the jars and vials – he could just catch the foreign sounding names as the Gryffindor muttered them to himself; _Klabautermannikin, Vodyaniye, Seligen Fraulein, Bwclod, Skogsra, Callicantzaroi..._

As Potter turned off onto the small Library, disappearing from view, Draco shook himself and followed. A few moments later, he found Potter looking through the various tomes, annuals, novels and instruction manuals a few aisles down the row. Potter looked as if he'd never seen half of them before and was gently running the index finger of his right hand down the spine of a particularly fine looking grimoires. As he watched, Potter paused, removed the book from the shelf and flipped it open.

"Can I help you, Malfoy?" He hadn't even looked up, eyes still flicking down the pages.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, in what he recognised as a defensive gesture, but didn't care. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

Potter glanced up briefly, "Shopping." The green eyes moved back down to the book again. Draco rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean; what are you doing here in Bath? I thought you always stayed at your family's place over the summer?"

Potter sighed and closed the book, though he didn't move to place it back on the shelf, "Why do you want to know?" Draco raised an eyebrow as the green eyes visibly looked him up and down in return.

"I'm simply curious," Draco offered, "This is where I live, you know. I'm not used to seeing Gryff's hanging about."

Potter tucked the grimoires under his arm and returned to perusing the bookshelf, "My family won a holiday. They brought me along."

Draco frowned slightly, but simply watched Potter run his slim fingers over the books, selecting titles seemingly at random, flicking through them and either putting them back or slipping them under his arm with the grimoires.

Draco apparently wasn't comfortable holding a normal conversation with Potter. Oh, they'd had a full truce in place since a week into Sixth Year, but that had meant they mostly ignored each other all year, exchanging few words beyond the necessary pleasantries to maintain the truce in public and the occasional conversations about homework.

Despite his breeding and the training all Purebloods went through to be able to hold court from a young age, Draco was at a loss to hold a normal conversation with the other teen. He had often found himself wondering what it would be like to talk to Potter on an equal footing, whether they had anything in common (besides Quidditch and homework) to talk about.

Well, not so much after Christmas. Potter had been more withdrawn in the months following Christmas, a fierce look in his eyes that even the Slytherin's had heeded, few of them starting anything and those who did more often than not ending up mildly freaked out by the scathing retorts from any and all Gryffindor's present. Potter, however, had always remained quiet during those bouts of rivalry, watching everything with an assessing look. Draco had been a little unnerved, but not mentioned anything.

Draco scowled at himself. Was he truly so bored that he would talk to Harry Bloody Potter in an attempt to relieve it? After a pause, he conceded that, actually, yes, he was. In fact, he was so bloody bored that he wouldn't mind the Gryffindor's company at all – and maybe they could work on that truce, maybe move it up a notch to some sort of alliance. Maybe.

He deflated inwardly, deciding that there was nothing to lose, so he'd suck it up and give it a go. Draco moved closer to Potter, as the teen had moved a stack or two further down as Draco debated with himself. "So... what are you doing?"

Potter looked up from the book he was flicking through, he gave Draco an odd look before shrugging; "Trying to find something Hermione doesn't have."

Draco arched an elegant eyebrow, "In the library? Whatever for? I'm sure that Ravenclaw in disguise has read everything in existence by now."

That odd look returned to Potter's features, as if Draco was something the teen was trying to figure out, like an interesting logic puzzle. Draco felt a little taken aback, he wasn't used to being so openly assessed. After a moment, Potter frowned, "Perhaps you're right." He snapped the book closed and placed it back on the shelf. With at least four books still under his arm, Potter ambled off, leaving Draco to himself once more.

Draco rolled his eyes. Why Potter had even considered a book, he didn't know. Granger was still female, despite her collection of mostly male friends, and notwithstanding her love of knowledge, she would probably appreciate something girly now and then. He had a feeling neither Potter nor the Weasel appreciated that.

He shrugged to himself and then followed after Potter at a discreet distance.

* * *

After a few minutes of mindless wondering, Harry discovered the jokes and toys section, spotting a few Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes****products scattered amongst the Zonko's and other independent company's wares. He smiled at that, the twins really were doing well for themselves, even considering buying out Zonko's once they had amassed enough wealth – and they weren't far off.

He perused the collection for a while, wondering about Malfoy at the back of his mind. The boy had been right, of course, perhaps Hermione would prefer something other than a book for her birthday this year. She spent all her time with her nose in one anyway, maybe something a bit different would be a welcome change. He couldn't really figure out what though. Perhaps a self cleaning potions set? Or more girly; some jewellery of some sort?

Staring almost unseeingly at the various joke items, Harry became more and more certain that Hermione would like something girly for once, though he was entirely unsure about what precisely that entailed, as he rarely, if ever, bought anything for girls. Hermione and Ginny were pretty much it and he had always gone practical with them, anyway.****

As he turned to leave, he noticed Malfoy standing just in the stacks of books, watching him quietly. He raised his eyebrows with a slight smile and continued to the counter to pay for his books. Desdemona, while just as jolly as her husband, was less conversational and simply allowed him to pay for his books and be on his way, though her eyes did register his scar.

As he stepped past the collection of awful muggle books, he spotted the jewellery in the cabinets doubling as a counter. He considered the pendulums, pendants, bracelets, earrings and necklaces for a moment. Maybe something of these would be appropriate?

Harry spent some time studying the collection, going from the beaded necklaces to the gemstone pendants and bracelets, to the earrings and back again. There were a few things in the display that were actually magical, and Harry decided he'd prefer to get Hermione something like that. Maybe something with a protection charm?

He found what he was looking for in the bracelets, a simple silver chain with amethyst stones laced into it – complex protection charms were also woven into the decorative form, he could see faint traces of them weaving around one another. It was pretty and practical, so he decided it would make a perfect eighteenth birthday present for the girl. He pointed it out to Henry and passed over the money for it.

Henry made a passing comment about a 'lucky girl' and attempted to fish for information on who she was, but Harry only smiled, nodded and pretended nonchalance at the idea of dating Hermione Granger. The girl was so besotted with Ron, it made him laugh to think of it.

As he left and turned down the alley, he found himself wondering about Malfoy. The teen had seemed desperate to talk to him, though not in a 'save my life!' way – more as if he was lonely and hadn't seen a relatively friendly face for some time.

Harry wondered at that – sure, the Slytherin had been quiet, civil, courteous even and unwilling to start any fights in their sixth year, but he must still have friends? He couldn't be lacking for company, right? He couldn't be so bored that he'd willingly try to start a conversation with The Boy Who Lived, right?

It was an interesting conundrum, but he decided he wasn't going to let himself think too much on the subject, it would probably only drive him nuts. His experience told him that Malfoy rarely did anything without ulterior motives, so he decided to leave it and if he bumped into him again, play it by ear.

He glanced absently at the muggle watch Ron had gotten him for Christmas last year – suppressing a shudder at the association – and realised it was nearing seven thirty. He hadn't realised he'd managed to spend all day out, he'd barely registered the time passing at all, even when he had stopped in MacDonald's for an hour to eat lunch. He had spent the time watching the crowds through the first floor window, enjoying the first MacDonald's meal he had ever eaten.

Harry quickly started on his way back to the hotel – luckily he was only a ten or fifteen minutes walk away, at most. He would quickly drop his purchases off in his room and then await the Dursley's; Draco Malfoy and his strange behaviour could wait until another time.

He didn't notice the pale eyes watching him as he hurried up the alley.

* * *

Harry was once again ignored at dinner, though he didn't mind so much. The meal had once again been chosen by Vernon, but though it was one of the cheapest, it was surprisingly tasty. The chef must have been one of those master's of their craft, able to create a gourmet meal out of pretty much anything.

He glanced at the Dursley's, briefly wondering how their day had gone, what they had been doing. Then he shook himself and looked back down at his plate. While good, the meal wasn't very large and he had nothing but water to drink with it – no starter and no pudding. It was nutritious, certainly, but not really enough for a full meal, one of the problems with expensive restaurants. Thankfully, he had actually had lunch and still had two cookies left; he would eat one before getting ready for bed tonight.

He heard raucous laughter and looked up again; the Dursley's were laughing at some private joke, quite loudly and he noticed a number of other patrons look their way – though not staring for too long at the strange family with the dejected looking teenager amongst them. He caught Dudley's eye briefly and the larger boy frowned, then grinned as if at Harry's misfortune and looked away again.

Harry silently fumed to himself at the injustice of the world, then got back to his meal, ignoring his relatives with all his might. Just the rest of this summer, and then he never had to see them again. He repeated it in his head like a mantra. This summer, then no more; this summer, then no more; this summer, then no more.

After a while, his thoughts turned back to Malfoy. He realised the teen really had looked rather desperate, his features unusually open, and if he thought about it, he had been able to feel a hint of that desperation when they were within arm's reach of one another. Whether that had been because of his Occlumency and Legilimency tutoring, or something else, he didn't know, he just knew it was true.

It hadn't been like the Malfoy he thought he'd known – at least, the Malfoy he'd known before the summer after their Fifth year. Malfoy had been very different in their Sixth year, even more so after Christmas, and again, more so after the Easter Holiday. But then, many people had changed after Christmas, so it wasn't too surprising.

Harry wondered briefly if he should consider actually being approachable the next time they bumped into one-another, for he knew they would, considering he was here for a fortnight and Malfoy had actually said he lived here. Slowly moving the food about on his plate, Harry considered it.

There were no other magical folk about, and he was fairly certain Malfoy had renounced whatever affiliation he had with the Dark, so he couldn't really see the harm in spending a little time this fortnight getting to know the guy. Maybe they could find some common ground, and start to make up for the five years of animosity they had unfortunately indulged in.

While finishing off the last of the meagre meal, Harry decided. He would allow the Slytherin to approach him and would see where it took them. He wondered vaguely if this was what Ron had been alluding to in his cryptic warning in the final letter before he left. Ron was often terribly vague about such things, Harry had grown used to it, but he kept it in mind.

He climbed into bed with a slightly lighter heart that night and after some time spent occluding, slept well.

* * *

A/N: All those foreign potions ingredients? They're taken from European and ex-USSR countries myths and fables. There are some German, British, Russian, Italian, French, Spanish and a few other countries creatures mentioned. Sidhe I think started off Irish but are fairly universal in UK and Europe now. The Katsodaimonas is one of my favourite little creatures – Known as 'The Lame Demon', they're horrible things that originate in Greece. They're about two feet tall, with huge heads, horns, lumpy chests and over-sized, entirely out of proportion genitals that are always on display – they are known for raping young girls and shoving their horns into the bellies of pregnant women, as well as causing the usual mischief attributed to 'little people'. I thought using their horns and genitals for those particular potions was a pretty good stroke of irony. My info on all the creatures mentioned comes from the book: '**A Field Guide to the Little People**' by Nancy Arrowsmith with George Moorse. My copy was printed in 1978, so it may be a little out of date. It smells of old book, I love it c.c

Also, old readers may have noticed the complete change in tone between Harry and draco in this rewritten conversation. No animosity. I realised it didn't work for the plot, so that whole thing has been removed and I've been wracking my brains on entirely new conversations.

Review for a cookie! (those who aren't signed in, I'll reply to here in the A/N's, otherwise I'll reply individually where I can)


End file.
